


romanticizing and decaying with indecision

by blazeofglory



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Dialogue Heavy, Future Fic, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Phone Calls & Telephones, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7082707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since the night Jack almost killed himself.</p>
<p>Kent still has a lot of unanswered questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	romanticizing and decaying with indecision

**Author's Note:**

> I _know_ I said I was working on happier fics, and I swear I am! After this sadfest!

“Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that?” Jack sounds tired and on the verge of anger, his voice strained. He sounds distant, too, but Kent blames that on the phone connection and the thousands of miles between them. 

“I know, but—”

“Why does it matter?” Jack interrupts, voice rising in agitation. “The press wanted to know, and my parents, and the doctors, and the therapists, and—and it doesn’t matter.”

“How the hell does it not matter?” Kent asks, his anger boiling up to match Jack’s. It’s been so many years now, so many long years of trying to _be there_ for Jack but Jack not letting him. Years and years of wondering what happened that night and _why_. Wondering if he’d made Jack worse, or if he’d helped at all. Not a day has gone by in all those years that he hasn’t remembered the way his best friend had looked, pale and lifeless on cold bathroom tile—Kent feels panic and nausea rising in his stomach at the memory. He’s gone so long without answers, and he’s not going to take it anymore, so he chokes out, voice tight with barely constrained emotion, “It matters, Jack. You know it does.”

Jack huffs an angry grunt that sounds almost like acquiescence. He’s silent for a long minute, long enough that Kent moves the phone away from his face to check that Jack hasn’t hung up. When Jack finally does talk, his voice is softer, the fight gone, and it’s like they’re 16 again, whispering secrets and fears in dark hotel rooms when they’re supposed to be asleep. Kent recognizes the defeat in Jack’s voice when he says, “You won’t like the answer.”

“I know,” Kent says again, barely above a whisper. This is confirmation enough, but he—he still needs to hear it. He needs to know for sure. And, god, he wants to know _everything_ , but he knows he’s lucky enough that Jack is telling him this one thing at all. Maybe Kent wouldn’t even be able to handle any more, because his heart is already racing and his eyes are stinging with unshed tears and Jack _hasn’t even said it yet_.

“Yes,” Jack finally answers, soft and tired in Kent’s ear.

Kent lets out a shaky breath, eyes shut tight, and wills himself not to cry. Hasn’t he cried about this enough already? Shouldn’t he be out of tears at this point?

Apparently not.

The tears start to fall and Kent is very, very glad he lives alone.

He want to say _I’m sorry_ and _Please tell me you’ve never wanted to do that again since_ and _I still love you_ , but—his love and his apologies and his worries hadn’t been enough then, and they won’t be enough now. Jack doesn’t need him anymore, anyway. Maybe Jack never needed him.

“You’re doing better now, though,” Kent responds after the silence has stretched on too long. It’s not a question. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah.” Jack hesitates, and then—“Sometimes it feels like it happened yesterday.”

“For me too,” Kent whispers. He’d been crying then too, praying that Jack would wake up and that he was okay and that he hadn’t _done it on purpose_. It almost makes him angry again to think it took this long to get Jack to admit it hadn’t been an accident. God, it’s like his heart is breaking all over again. He shouldn’t have called, because now—now he just wants so much to be with Jack, having this conversation looking into his eyes and holding his hand.

There are more questions on the tip of his tongue that he’ll never ask.

“I know it was a bad time for you too,” Jack says quietly. Kent’s grip on his phone tightens. “You tried to be there for me and I shut you out and I wasn’t there for _you_ , and I—I’m sorry. Kenny, that was… the worst year of my life. I fucked up so many things.”

Kent’s throat is thick with tears, and he knows Jack can hear it in his voice, but he’s past the point of caring, because Jack is finally apologizing and Kent will never get tired of the way he says _Kenny_.

“I didn’t handle shit well back then either,” he admits, a rueful smile on his face. It was the worst year of his life too, but he doesn’t say that out loud. “I’m sorry too.”

“We’re both doing pretty well now, eh?”

Kent can’t help but laugh a little at Jack’s attempt to lighten the conversation, because it’s so _awkward_ and so _Jack_ , and he answers honestly even though he doesn’t mean to. “I think you are.”

Jack’s voice is sad again when he asks, all earnest and compassionate, “You’re not?”

_Not without you, I’m not._

_Not while I still miss you every minute of every day._

_I still love you, of course I’m not doing well._  

“I’m trying,” is all Kent says. 

“I miss you,” Jack whispers, and hey, that’s usually Kent’s line. His chest feels tight again, and he opens his mouth to say _God, Zimms, I miss you too_ , but then he hears another voice in the background. A vaguely familiar sounding voice, saying hello to Jack.

Jack’s at home, Kent knows that. Whoever just said hello must have a key, or live there, or—Kent can’t think of another reason. A boyfriend.

Jack has a boyfriend. 

“I have to go,” Kent says suddenly, and he knows it’s rude and he knows it’s stupid, and he _should’ve known Jack has a fucking boyfriend_ , but all he can think is that he needs to hang up and he needs to scream into his pillow.

“We should talk again soon,” Jack replies, sounding very much like he’s frowning. Kent would be glad Jack wants to talk to him again at all if he didn’t currently feel like his heart was being torn out of his chest.

“I’ll call you if I’m ever in Providence, yeah?” 

“Okay,” comes Jack’s soft reply. “Bye, Kenny.”

“Bye, Jack.”

This goodbye is the first in a long time to contain a promise of another interaction, and yet—it’s the one that feels the most like goodbye.


End file.
